


Why Chat Noir Can't Babysit

by snacc_noir



Series: Iconic Reveals Index [2]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrien misinterprets Ladybug's instructions, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Identity Reveal, but with a different flavour, ladrien
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:28:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23252467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snacc_noir/pseuds/snacc_noir
Summary: Sentibug lives and becomes Ladybug and Chat Noir's latest mission.They would bring her up, teach her how to fight, what the world is, the difference between good and evil -Outside.(Notsneak her into theircivilianhome, Chat.)
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Series: Iconic Reveals Index [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1688881
Comments: 11
Kudos: 263





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "Sentibug lives and is named Bridgette" 
> 
> Crack-reveal fic based on a prompt from [ tumblr ](https://snacc-noir.tumblr.com/)

“Hey, _hEY_ \- Bridge. Put it down.”

Fathering wasn’t on Adrien’s agenda at fifteen. But then again, neither was being a superhero, and neither was adopting a humanish akuma product to please his lady.

The only one who seems to be enjoying his suffering is Plagg, no surprise, his only help offering to be the audience watching him chase a battle souvenir in the mould of his dream-wife, snickering as he downs off-limit cheese rolls like pills.

Speaking of _that_ thing, wasn’t _that_ enough for him to take care of?

But no, it’s his turn to babysit his and LB’s sentibug child. And convenientally, with his father and Nathalie out, he has no excuse not to leap (in his civilian form) around his oversized bedroom trying to catch (a super-powered) Bridgette—as they’ve named her—from destroying everything she touches - that’s _his_ job.

“Bridgette that’s not- no. _No_.”

Plagg shakes with another snicker. Adrien nails him with a look that promises no cheese later.

“Do you want me to call Ladybug?”

It’s a little fazing when someone _identical_ to said Ladybug flicks a panicked expression to you.

“No…”

“Then put the piano down.”

She huffs, almost breaking the floor with the drop.

“I said _put_. Do it again. _Carefully_.”

Like an impotent child, her mouth twists bitterly and she raises the structure, setting it deliberately slow while death-staring Adrien.

“Better.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m just testing how strong I am!”

“Very. End of discussion.”

* * *

Ladybug doesn’t know _what_ to think when her eyes interrupt her evening glide, the yo-yo that’s puppeting her losing control as her innate body stutters to a splat on a two-story roof.

Her figure’s crumpled but her eyes remain locked…

…on herself?

She shouldn’t really even _be_ here. But it’s tradition (okay?) to go past Adrien’s window each time she takes her suit out for a spin when there’s no responsibility attached.

Does the route have anything to do with her consuming crush on him? Yes. 100%. Does Marinette admit to this ever? No. And she never will.

So it’s her own fault for sneaking a glance into those grand windows that more often than not have a fleeting image of Adrien in a form of domesticity. But one thing she’s never and _should_ never see (she wishes though) is Adrien with _her._

Why… Why is she holding a piano?

Marinette blinks. One, two, seventeen times. That’s her, right? That’s- That’s Ladybug. That’s the super-heroine of Paris. In Adrien Agreste’s bedroom. And not even _her;_ the _real_ her.

Does Chat know? Where is he? _What is going on_?

It’s curiosity that drags a mindless Ladybug closer. She swings to the windows, both mouth and body hanging, staring, lightly swaying, internally screaming.

The screams get louder as she focusses sight.

“I’m just testing how strong I am!”

“Very. End of discussion.”

That’s not her.

That’s _Bridgette_.

“L- _Ladybug_?”

And that’s Chat Noir.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha oops almost forgot about this

It’s with a rattled yelp that Adrien greets his guest. Bridgette bounces over, for once off his attention, and Ladybug stares.

And they stare and stare and stare.

Adrien debates the two courses of screaming or letting her in, but it’s his body—shaking, cautious, in disbelief—that leads him to the barrier between the bug, unlatching for her entrance.

One entrance she has.

Her yo-yo spazems, the lean figure turning into a blur of red that splats on his floor, dark bangs brushing his shoes. He doesn’t know what to say, think, _feel_ — his mind has haywhired, so, _so_ many _Oh no_ ’s flying his mind in striking colours.

He reflects. Just for a moment. With the love of his life groaning at his feet.

Okay. Him, Adrien, a not-so-normal civilian, is found scolding sentibug—Ladybug and _Chat Noir’s_ adoption project—in his room. And now her, Ladybug herself, a presently wobbling and shocked beauty who’s still staring like she’s having the most wracking epiphany, has found his spectacle.

Meaning he has three options to spare his indentity: a) Lie like he’s late for an akuma; b) deny whatever Ladybug accuses him of; and c) play dumb.

He’s quite good at the last one, but since all this thought runs through in about three seconds, Ladybug interrupts before he actually gets to choose.

“Bridgette’s here!”

His hands snap behind his back. “Yes.”

“And you’re here!”

“Yes?”

“And—”

“You said you wouldn’t call Ladybug!” A snappish voice, blatantly hers, charges through her declaration. Bridgette marches to the frightful, not-so-innocent teen and prods a finger to his chest. “Traitor! You promised!”

If Ladybug needed anymore confirmation, she now has it.

A sigh strains. The heroine massages her oncoming headache, not believing any of this is happening - like all _this_ , at this _time_ , during this _stupidity?_

What a reveal.

The glamourous life of a superhero. Catching your partner in his real identity admonish your sentimonster clone for messing around with his piano, all by some _utterly ridiculous_ accident.

“Chat.”

He splutters something akin to a cough. “Who?”

“Oh come on, like pretending you don’t even know Chat Noir is going to help you get out of this.”

He darts a glance at the Ladybug clone. “Out of what?”

Bridgette shrugs, shameless, scattered CDs and socks smirking at him behind her.

“ _Adrien_.”

“Who?” Oh, wait. “I mean-”

“You’re supposed to take her out, give her a life, teach her things. She can survive outside us! You’re supposed to mentor her!”

He panics. Well, he’s been panicking this whole time, it just increases by each passing second. “What are you talking about?”

Ladybug stomps a foot. She’s trying so, impossibly hard not to just scream about this forever with hair balled in her fists - to be mature and accepting, yet here her- her _partner_ , Adrien-freaking-Agreste is, pushing her closer and closer to shrieking.

“Adrien. You’re Chat. Admit it.”

He rubs the back of his neck. The green gaze she’s written poetry about avoids hers, embarrassed and mortified. It finally flicks up and her heart and mind are punched with the finalising,

“Yes.”

_Yes_.

He’s _Chat_.

_‘Don’t freak out don’t freak out don’t freak out don’t_ -’

“Cool.”

He swallows. “Cool.”

“I’m Marinette.”

A smothered high-pitched shrill lightly slips a passive face.

Bridgette rolls her eyes.

“Couldn’t you do the reveal later? I’m starving.”

“You don’t require food.”

“But I _like_ it.”

Adrien can’t _think_.

Out of fright and flight he wonders why not _both_.

None of this is fair like she can’t just reveal herself like that when he already has his limit of paternal stress from looking after _that_ thing and not only does she get to know first when he wanted to learn first but he isn’t even allowed to _react_.

And he _would_ verbalise any of this or even _think_ it but the thing is _he can’t think._

“Stay calm, Adrien. We’ll sort this out later.”

He gapes, an eternal chorus of ‘ _that’s Marinette, that’s Marinette, that’s Marinette_ —’ piercing his soul, mind, and body, and so he still. can’t. think.

“ _Later_?!”

“Yes.”

Well, she has always been the more authoritive parent.

“Look, we’ll-” to his relief, she’s stressed out too, pacing to the furthest left window pane to the right, “we’ll talk about this. All of it. Later. How about we have lunch?”

“Lunch?!”

“Stop repeating what I say and work with me!”

He breathes, and breathes and breathes and breathes. “Work with you. Right.” Another deep breath. “We’re a team.”

“We’re a team who are also classmates.”

“Right.”

“Right.”

They really need to scream.

And they did. Later. That night, many, many, many a-times. (Who can blame them?) But during the meanwhile, they still had a daughter to take care of.

“Can you two stop drooling so we can have lunch?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the type of work i'll think about adding onto but either never will or spontaneously will months later


End file.
